Indisputable Proof (29 page)

CHAPTER 49

September 14. Friday – 6:16 a.m. Egyptian Time (5:16 a.m. Oviedo, Spain)

3 hours 44 minutes until the start of the Feast of the Cross

Finding his way through the tunnel was proving to be a long and arduous process. The problem did not lie in which direction to go. There was only the one tunnel, and it ran in a straight line. The problem was that it appeared endless. Tolen was sure he had already gone several miles. It was amazing that this long passageway flowed beneath a thriving city, and no one had any idea it was here. Also intriguing, Tolen thought, was the fact that, beyond the tunnel itself, there was nothing of interest—no hieroglyphs or inscriptions, no artifacts. It was clear to him this was merely an access point to whatever lay ahead.

Not for the first time, he wondered if he could really be closing in on a cache of objects which belonged to Jesus Christ.

Tolen continually probed ahead with his flashlight looking for any signs of movement or some deviation in the passageway which would signal its termination point. He was already hindered by having to approach from one direction with no place to hide, and losing his pistol at the Patmos airfield put him at a severe disadvantage. Still, he pressed on, concerned that as each minute passed, the chances of Jade’s survival were slipping away.

The echoes of his footfalls returned to him softly from somewhere in the distance. Beyond that, there was silence. He desperately looked for clues to confirm they were down here.

His trek continued through the straight corridor. Another mile went by, and he grew impatient. At the risk of announcing his arrival, Tolen broke into a trot, stepping as lightly as possible upon the limestone floor. The strong stench of sand and limestone remained. Even as he ran, he scanned the walls looking for any signs they had come this way.

Perspiration was dripping from his face, and he was growing thirsty. He had not considered that the tunnel would lead such a great distance. On and on he ran, training the light ahead as best he could while his arms swung in rhythm to his pace. Because of the jostling, the beam shot into the nothingness of the long corridor, and his mind began playing tricks on him. On one occasion he saw a shadowy figure lurking ahead, only to find the apparition was a trick of the erratic light.

Now, as he raced ahead with growing concern, his muscles fighting through the fatigue, he saw a brown-and-white clump on the ground, caught in the flashes of the light. It resembled some sort of small woodland creature; a mouse perhaps. Common sense told him it was a mirage, just a trick of the light. Yet, the closer he drew to it, the more real it became. Then he was upon it, and he stopped his forward motion only at the last second. For a moment he stood over it, panting, as he aimed the flashlight beam down onto the still mass, trying to fathom what he was seeing. It was obviously no animal…or anything organic for that matter. He squatted, breathing hard.

It suddenly came into focus, and he picked it up. A brown patch with white medical tape wrapped around it. It was the dressing he had applied to Jade’s wound.

She had left him a sign that she was somewhere up ahead.

Tolen experienced a resurgence of hope. He dropped the bandage and began running with newfound determination.

****

Vakind sat in a room watching the video of his interrogation with Nelson Whitacre. Beside him was the stocky, bald branch chief of the FBI, Jason Gerly, and Homeland Security Director, Rachel McNulty. It had taken Gerly a while to calm after Vakind had violated protocol and interviewed the subject without FBI consent. Eventually, Vakind had reasoned him into acceptance and collaboration. It had not hurt when Gerly was made aware of Vakind’s direct relationship with the president. Now, the threesome sat in the room committed to working together, even if the relationship was an uneasy one. The text from the goodbye note which Whitacre left had been distributed and was in the hands of analysts from all three agencies.

Vakind knew they had one distinct advantage. Unlike most terrorist attacks, they knew when the strike would occur: at midnight local time; 9 a.m. in Spain, less than three-and-a-half-hours from now. The problem was, they still did not know where.

“
21 in the fertile valleys out of 28 worldwide will be destroyed
,” McNulty, a middle-aged, demure woman with short, crimson hair, read from the message. “Twenty-eight what? What are there 28 of in the world which we have 21 of nearby?”

“Keep in mind, we still believe—and Whitacre’s response during interrogation seems to support—it will be a soft target, heavily populated with civilians,” Gerly added.

“Two hundred thousand, according to Whitacre,” Vakind said. To lose any life to a terrorist attack was a tragedy, but this was a daunting number. If carried out, it would easily qualify as the most devastating terrorist strike in history.

“Disneyland?” McNulty offered.

“At midnight?” Gerly shot back. “It still doesn’t solve the 21 out of 28 riddle.” His face scrunched in thought and frustration. “Maybe the ‘fertile valleys’ refers to the vineyards in San Fernando, Sonoma, Napa Valley, and the like. There are many large wineries in southern California which could be targets.”

Vakind shook his head. “It doesn’t meet the criteria. There would not be two hundred thousand people at 21 wineries at midnight. Besides, Whitacre was stopped by local law enforcement while driving into Los Angeles. He wasn’t headed to wine country. He was going into the city.”

“Yeah, but he lives in LA,” Gerly retorted sorely. His attitude suggested he took exception with Vakind shooting down his idea. “Maybe he was driving home. Remember, he’s been in custody for nearly ten hours. Hell, he could have gone home and still driven a long way in the time he had left until midnight tonight.”

“It’s possible,” Vakind said, attempting to keep the peace, “but then why had he already written the farewell note if he was going back to his house?”

CHAPTER 50

September 14. Friday – 5:48 a.m. Oviedo, Spain

3 hours 12 minutes until the start of the Feast of the Cross

Tiffany Bar gazed out the airplane window at the dark surface of the Atlantic Ocean thirty thousand feet below. The horizon to the east was showing the first faint glow of morning light, coloring a line of clouds with an orange hue where the sun would soon peek through. The plane was due to land at Asturias Airport in Spain in one hour.

Reba Zee’s death had severely rattled her. And then there was the murder of Inspector Pascal Diaz. She shook her head, determined to put these depressing thoughts aside. Bar had a job to do, and it was going to require her full concentration. She would have to leverage everything the CIA had taught her, every trick Tolen had let her in on, if she was to have even a slim chance of success. An odd combination of exhilaration and apprehension washed over her as she considered the task before her. She kept reminding herself Samuel Tolen had entrusted her with this job, so he was obviously confident she could do it.

The man is one of the best, she reminded herself. If he thinks I can do it, then I can.

Still, she was unable to fend off her anxiety.

****

With the knowledge he was on the right path, Tolen continued to jog ahead through the limestone tunnel. He estimated that, given his pace and the amount of elapsed time, he had covered in excess of five miles. He had no idea which direction he was heading, only that it was not east. If he were, he would have run into the Nile River by now.

On and on he went until he thought he saw a change in the tunnel ahead. He stopped, momentarily caught his breath, and listened for any sounds. When he heard none, he proceeded at a quick walk, guiding the light into the distance.

He considered that he might be nearing the single greatest archaeological site in mankind’s history, yet that mattered little to him at this point. Whatever lay ahead, his main goal was to save Jade.

Suddenly, he saw an aberration in the tunnel ahead. He reached a wide set of descending steps the width of the tunnel. There were no more than a half dozen, and he moved down them slowly, cautiously, keeping the light aimed low. If they were nearby, it was going to be nearly impossible to surprise them. Without a gun in these tight quarters, his only option was to use the shadows to his advantage.

Tolen found himself in another passageway with openings ahead on each side. The first proved to be an intersecting tunnel to the right and left. Neither corridor appeared to reach more than 30 feet. He paused, again listening for any sound.

Tolen turned left and followed the tunnel, which was considerably thinner than the main artery. He came to an end wall and found the tunnel continued at a 90-degree angle to the right. He turned down it, watchful of everything around him. It only went a short distance before it ended, opening into a square room.

He retreated from the room and made his way back to the main tunnel, this time crossing over to the other tunnel branch. Instead of turning at a 90-degree angle and continuing, as the previous detour had, it ended at a square room twice the size of the one on the other side.

Tolen wiped the sweat from his forehead and took stock of the tunnels, once again returning to the main passageway where he continued on. Almost immediately on his right, there was another corridor. He paused, listened, then proceeded down it, where he followed the 90-degree left turn and walked into a large rectangular room with a high ceiling. This one was twice as big as the largest room he had encountered so far. He returned to the main passageway.

The entire labyrinth of rooms presented a curious layout, and Tolen was reminded of the burial chambers which had been discovered in the Valley of the Kings. He had a distinct feeling he was moving through the catacombs, possibly the mortuary chambers, of some ancient Egyptians whose tomb or tombs had been plundered long ago, evidenced by the lack of any content whatsoever. Conspicuously missing were any hieroglyphic cartouches, any declaration as to which Egyptian Pharaoh or royalty these rooms were fashioned to serve in the afterlife.

He proceeded ahead. On his left was a large opening that immediately led into yet another room; this one long and rectangular. Shining his flashlight within, he saw it was empty. He retreated and saw yet another opening on the left. He moved through a short hallway which spilled into another rectangular room.

This chamber caught him by surprise. It was unique in that it had steps leading to a seven-foot-wide perimeter ledge around the entire room, resulting in a quasi-second floor. The ceiling beyond was easily 25 feet from the base of the floor where he stood.

CHAPTER 51

September 14. Friday – 7:09 a.m. Egyptian Time (6:09 a.m. Oviedo, Spain)

2 hours 51 minutes until the start of the Feast of the Cross

Tolen retraced his steps back to the main tunnel. Ahead, the corridor ended at a four-sided pillar turned at an angle so that one edge faced him from the middle of the passageway. He approached it cautiously and found room to pass on either side. He eased around the pillar and through a doorway opening. The room he now stood in was massive, easily covering the total area of all the other rooms combined.

He pivoted the light up. At the back wall where he had entered, there was a ceiling of indistinguishable height. A lower ceiling began approximately ten feet out and covered the rest of the area ahead, effectively giving the room a second floor. He looked around for stairs but saw none. There appeared to be no way to reach this upper level.

The monstrous room also had one other unique feature. The long straight back wall where he stood connected at each end to two angled sidewalls which narrowed far ahead until they eventually came to a point.

Strangely, the room was in the shape of a massive triangle with the point at the farthest end ahead.

Movement to the side caused him to spin toward the back wall. He caught the faces of two people: the pleading look of Dr. Jade Mollur and the malevolent expression of Inspector Pascal Diaz.

“Jade, are you all right?” Tolen asked.

She nodded. Her haggard face was caked with dust.

“Si, at the moment she is fine,” Diaz said. “Turn on the lanterns, Jade. Tolen, give me your weapon.”

The room suddenly illuminated as Jade switched on a lantern.

“I’m unarmed.” Tolen responded.

“Turn around, then lift up your pants legs,” Diaz said. He had a pistol aimed at Jade’s back.

Tolen did, proving to Diaz he had no gun.

Jade lowered the first electric lantern to the floor and picked up a second one. She turned it on and placed it on the ground. The brilliant light revealed just how white the walls were.

Diaz inclined his head at Tolen for a silent moment. “You don’t seem surprised to see me, Señor.”

“On the way to Patmos, I had Reba Zee sweep the jet for any electronic devices that might be tracking us, and it came up empty. Yet someone was communicating our movements to a third party, or should I say, Nicklaus Kappel. Once I determined Jade’s innocence, it only left you as the mole.”

Jade shot Tolen a hurt look as if to say,
what did I do to ever warrant suspicion?

Tolen continued. “Also, you were in the Spanish Navy as a demolitions expert. You’d been on numerous deployments during your time in the military. You weren’t seasick in Costa Rica. It was just an act so you could be alone below deck to communicate our position. Oh, and that weight-sensitive arming device in Javier’s freezer wrapped around the corpse of Boyd Ramsey took some extensive explosives knowledge to pull off. Nice work, by the way.”

“I see your little blonde analyst has been doing some research on me,” Diaz said brashly.

“You killed a tourist or transient on the Isle of Patmos,” Tolen went on, “and bashed his face in until he was unrecognizable and planted your credentials and cell phone on him. You knew the authorities would look to see the last call on the phone. It came from me. I’m guessing you also murdered Claudia Denoit in order to leave one last Apostle-style death for me to find. With both murders, you knew the police would canvas the island looking for me, which would buy yourself more time. How am I doing so far?”

“Very good work, Tolen, but obviously the Greek police were unable to detain you. Kappel killed your Texas pilot, and I retrieved the first stone jar from the plane. How did you get off Patmos and here so quickly without a pilot?” Diaz grinned slyly as he realized the answer to his own question. “Ah, you can pilot a plane. I did not account for this.”

“Indulge me,” Tolen retorted. “What was Boyd Ramsey’s involvement? And when did you get involved with Simon Anat’s reward?”

Diaz’s smile turned lecherous. “I see you found out about the lucrative prize. I am truly impressed.” He paused. “Your ex-CIA friend was one of the hundred or so who were originally privy to the offer. He had the idea to perform lab tests on the Sudarium, so he approached my brother and tried to bribe Javier to let him inside the cathedral to steal the Sudarium. Javier came to me to turn Ramsey in. I tracked Ramsey to a hotel in Oviedo, since I was curious about his intentions with the Sudarium. With proper motivation, Señor Ramsey told me of Anat’s challenge and the reward.”

“So that’s when you got the idea to go after it yourself,” Tolen cut in. “Did you kill Ramsey after you forced him to tell you how he planned to use the Sudarium threads to make a claim?”

Diaz did not respond. Guilty by silence.

Tolen went on. “Once you had the fibers, you needed someone discreet to test them. Tiffany Bar discovered that, several years ago, you accompanied Javier to the U.S. where he faced a paternity test from an American who had vacationed in Spain. Javier located a U.S. lab technician, Aaron Conin, and paid him off to get favorable results to disprove he was the father. That was why you took Javier’s bank statement showing the $5,000 payment from his house. You didn’t want anyone finding it and tying you and Javier to Conin.

“After obtaining the Sudarium, you contacted Conin using Boyd Ramsey’s cell phone, and brought him some threads without disclosing their origin. I suspect Conin became suspicious, and you were forced to kill him on August 24
th
.”

It was Diaz’s turn to cut in. “Ramsey had a revolutionary idea of how to reconstitute the dried white blood cells from the Sudarium. He said the evidence of Jesus’ divinity would be present within these cells. I found his notes on the reconstitution process and took them to Conin along with the thread samples.”

“That’s impossible.” Tolen started, his mind churning. “Once dried, white blood cells are dead. They can’t be reconstituted.”

“So I’ve heard,” Diaz said with a pressed smile. “Nevertheless, Conin took Ramsey’s notes. At first, he was unsuccessful. After numerous attempts experimenting with different processes, he eventually succeeded. He brought the white blood cells back to life.

“The problem was, when he saw the results, he was a little too excited. I was forced to kill him at his apartment to keep him quiet. Unfortunately, he never divulged how he modified Ramsey’s theory to reconstitute the white cells.”

Tolen tried to digest Diaz’s claim with considerable difficulty. What the man said simply was not possible.

“The next day, I went to Simon Anat to pitch my evidence, and show him the data from Conin’s analysis. I couldn’t explain how I was able to reconstitute the white blood cells, so Anat wouldn’t listen to what I had to say. He wouldn’t even review the data unless I could replicate the process in front of him, and of course I could not.”

“What could the analysis of the white blood cells have possibly proven?” Jade asked.

Diaz smiled sardonically but did not respond.

“Is this when you formed an alliance with Anat’s assistant, Nicklaus Kappel?” Tolen interjected.

Diaz arched his eyebrows. “Yes, all of the participants vying for Anat’s prize were required to report their progress to Kappel. This made him the focal point of information, and Anat had precluded his assistant from being eligible for the prize, so he happily became my silent partner. Having a man on the inside increased my chances of success.”

For a moment, no one spoke.

“The discrepancy in timing initially had me perplexed,” Tolen said. “I couldn’t figure out how you had samples from the Sudarium before it was stolen on August 30
th
. Then I found out the Oviedo police maintain a key to the Cámara Santa in their possession, and I assumed you
borrowed
it to gain entry. That’s when I realized you had stolen the Sudarium earlier in the month. You knew the relic wasn’t inventoried and wouldn’t be viewed again until the start of the Feast of the Cross, so no one would know it was missing. Then you staged the Sudarium’s
theft
on August 30
th
. I suspect this had something to do with your brother, Javier. Javier discovered the Sudarium was missing before anyone else, didn’t he? You killed him to keep him quiet and were forced to make it look like a theft. The scrape marks around the keyhole of the iron gate in the Cámara Santa were made by the same tool as the marks on Aaron Conin’s bathroom door. You did it with your pocketknife, but unlike with Conin, you weren’t trying to get in, you were making it appear as if the lock had been picked.”

Diaz visibly grimaced. “Javier knew where the archbishop kept the key to the Cámara Santa and had access to it. Unbeknownst to me or anyone else, at the end of each month, Javier used the key from the archbishop’s office to inventory the relics behind the gate late at night. On the night of the 30th, he discovered the Sudarium was missing and, in a panic, called me. I went to the Cathedral to meet him. We had a discussion, and I admitted to Javier I had
borrowed
the Sudarium and promised I would put it back soon, but he would hear nothing of it. He threatened to turn me in. My own flesh and blood!”

“You stabbed him with your knife?”

“Yes, after we got into a fight.”

“And the halberd?” Tolen asked.

“I called Kappel that night from the Cathedral. He advised me to make Javier’s death appear more than a simple homicide; something unique. I went back and found the halberd in one of the dioramas. I embedded it in Javier’s chest and left his body by the Arca Santa.”

“And you also planted Boyd Ramsey’s fingerprint?” Tolen added.

“Yes, this is when Kappel and I hatched a plan to blame Boyd Ramsey and make him the leader of an anti-religious fanatical group. Kappel was aware of Jade’s and Dr. Cherrigan’s search for a cache of Jesus’ belongings. Kappel believed my blood analysis despite the fact I was unable to duplicate the reconstitution of the white blood cells. Based on this, he theorized it might be possible to get DNA from Jesus’ personal effects to prove His divinity. Kappel went to Costa Rica, killed Cherrigan, and took his notes. After my convenient use of the halberd, Kappel got the idea to perpetuate the Apostle-style executions by beheading Cherrigan. Only when we read Cherrigan’s notes did we discover with delight the unique item among the trove Cherrigan was after; something that would solidify our claim to Anat’s billions.”

Jade looked confused. “Cherrigan didn’t know the possible contents. We never found a list.”

“Oh, I’m afraid he did, Jade. Before the two of you joined forces and started your decryption of the Copper Scroll, Dr. Cherrigan had already discovered a clue on a cave wall outside of Jerusalem which alluded to the cache and itemized the contents. It was in one of the files on his PC.”

He turned to Tolen as he continued. “We wanted the authorities to tie the two deaths: Javier in Spain and Cherrigan in Costa Rica.”

“But you didn’t want it to appear too obvious, so you only placed Ramsey’s partial prints at each scene,” Tolen added.

“
Si
,” Diaz replied, “then we faked a communiqué by the ‘True Sons of Light’ to the Spanish authorities and planted a better fingerprint on the paper; one that would conclusively link the two crime scenes so there would be no doubt the threat was real. When the Spanish authorities failed to notify the press, I had to take action.”

“So it was you who leaked the news to the press of the crime scene and the ex-CIA agent’s alleged involvement, and you and Kappel invented the ‘True Sons of Light’ to turn up the heat and avert suspicion.”

Diaz smiled, as if reveling in praise of the plan.

“Did you try to drive me off the road in New Jersey?” Jade asked. Her voice was weak, defeated, and she seemed exhausted.

“No, that was Kappel. That part of the plan worked to perfection. Kappel and I had Cherrigan’s notes, but neither of us had the education or background to know how to proceed in the archaeological quest.”

Tolen understood. “You weren’t trying to kill Jade; you wanted the CIA’s attention to be drawn to her. Afterward, you convinced Spanish officials to allow you to come to the States and assist with the investigation, knowing we’d bring Jade into our protection. You communicated our location at Harvard, Costa Rica, and Patmos to Kappel as we went. Kappel sent messages to the other participants who were after the reward, most likely embellishing our progress. This motivated people like Richard Mox, Gordon Nunnery, the unknown assailants at the Petra, and Claudia Denoit to try and stop us. Even though they weren’t ready to make a claim to the prize, they didn’t want anyone else to beat them to it. You orchestrated the attacks, knowing I would encourage us to continue the search for two reasons: one, to catch one of the members of the ‘True Sons of Light’ when they attacked us, and two, to find and protect the trove before this anti-religious group destroyed it.”

For a moment, no one spoke, until Tolen finally broke the silence. “What are you hoping to find among the cache that will verify life-after-death?”

Diaz smiled but did not answer, instead announcing, “Now, I am about to make the most astonishing and lucrative discovery in the history of mankind while Mr. Kappel is retrieving the Sudarium.”

Tolen did not hesitate. “I’ve already warned authorities about Kappel. They’re tracking Anat’s private plane, so they’ll get him before he gets to the Sudarium.” It was a lie, since Bar had been unable to track the plane. Tolen wanted to see if his suspicion was correct about the location of the Sudarium.

Diaz continued to smile. “Oh, I doubt it. Kappel had the luxury to be able to use Anat’s private jet whenever he wished, but Anat would sometimes question Kappel about his travels, and we couldn’t let the billionaire discover his true destination. The pilot flew the jet from Patmos without Kappel and returned to Switzerland. Kappel used other means of transportation to get to Spain to retrieve the Sudarium while Jade helped me continue the search by brilliantly solving the latest clue.”

Diaz’s admission that the Sudarium had never left Spain was encouraging. Now, if only Bar could find it in time.